pryin' and
snoopin' around my flat for two days."

I gawps at her for a second, and then chuckles. "You mean a
classy-dressed gent with whiskers?" says I.

She nods.

"Mr. J. Bayard Steele," says I. "He's the one to see. He'll give you all
the partic'lars."

"Humph!" says she, sniffin'. "What does he want of Josie Vernon? What's
his game?"

"Deeds of kindness, that's all," says I.

Mrs. Shaw indulges in a hard, throaty cackle. "There ain't no such
animal," says she. "Come now, you're in on this with him. He said so.
What's it all about?"

"Mrs. Shaw," says I, "you've heard all I got to say on the subject. I'm
more or less busy too, and----"

"How impolite!" she breaks in. "And me a lady too! Heavings! how faint I
feel!" With that she sidles towards my desk chair and slumps into it.

"Very distressin' symptoms," says I. "But I got a quick cure for attacks
like that. It's fresh air, taken outside."

"I sha'n't budge until I've found why you're hounding me!" says she,
grippin' the chair arms.

"So?" says I. "Maybe you didn't notice the size of my assistant, Swifty
Joe, as you came in? His specialty is escortin' obstreperous parties
downstairs and dumpin' 'em on the curb."

"You try any strong-arm stuff on me and I'll scream for help!" says she.
"I'll make a charge against you too."

She looked equal to it, and for a minute I stands there gazin' puzzled
at her and scratchin' my head.

"You win," says I. "I can't have Swifty scratched up. He's too handsome.
It ain't any secret I'm keepin' away from you, anyway. All Mr. Steele
wants to do is to locate Josie Vernon. It's a will case, and there may
be something in it for her. There! That's the whole story."

"It's a fishy one," says she.

"Maybe," says I; "but I'm givin' you my word on it. Produce Josie, and
you'll see."

She squints at me doubtful, glances around the room cautious once or
twice, and then remarks quiet, "Very well. I'll take a chance. I'm
Josie."

"Eh?" says I. "You!"

"Ask the Sergeant over at the Nineteenth," says she. "He ran me out of
his precinct because I wouldn't give up enough. Fortune-telling, you
know. He wanted twenty a month. Think of that!"

"Never mind the Sarge," says I. "Did you know Mr. Gordon?"

"Pyramid?" says she. "Rather! Back in the '90's, that was. I was in his
offices for awhile."

"Oh--ho!" says I. "Then you must be the one. Would you mind givin' me a
sketch of the affair?"

Mrs. Shaw shrugs her shoulder